


Christmas Eve

by glitteredsins, jennandanica



Series: Citadel: Antony Starr and Stephen Amell [96]
Category: Actor RPF, Arrow (TV 2012) RPF, Banshee (TV) RPF, Citadel (Journalfen RPG), New Zealand Actor RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-26
Updated: 2018-03-26
Packaged: 2019-04-08 14:03:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14106954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glitteredsins/pseuds/glitteredsins, https://archiveofourown.org/users/jennandanica/pseuds/jennandanica





	Christmas Eve

  
**players only. backdated to 2013. takes place in LA, in a break from their honeymoon, shortly after[the boys do some Christmas shopping](https://antony-starr.dreamwidth.org/12302.html) and [check out Stephen's wedding present.](https://cit-stephen-amell.dreamwidth.org/6726.html)**

_warnings for verbal humiliation and fisting_

They'd finally made it skating with a huge hot lunch overlooking the rink after, everything lit up even though it was only afternoon. A walk around downtown to check out the various store windows and Christmas trees and they'd come home in time for Antony to finish his baking and slide some finger foods -- sausage rolls, cranberry filo parcels, mini samosas - into the oven for a lighter dinner. They've got movies planned - Elf and It's A Wonderful Life - and not much else, their first Christmas together mostly about it being just them. Antony's got two bottles of champagne on the counter and he opens a bottle now, pouring two glasses and handing one to Stephen before settling on the couch beside him. "Which do you want to watch first?"

"Elf," Stephen's sprawled out on the couch in his 'comfies'; light grey jersey pj bottoms and a long sleeve tee in navy, he's still warm and slightly damp from a hot shower and he's pretty fucking chilled. It's been a wonderfully busy and rewarding few days, but now all he has to look forward to is 48 hours of total down time, food, booze and his gorgeously attentive husband.

He sips from the glass, smiling at the play of bubbles and the subtle dryness to the wine.

"You want to start it now or wait for the food?" Antony asks, pulling Stephen's legs over his lap and moving in closer.

"Hmm, now is good," he smiles, his expression serene, one of a man well pleased with his lot in life. "Right now everything is good."

"Everything?" Antony grins, reaching for the remote.

"Hmm, yeah, my life, pretty fucking epic," Stephen lifts his glass in salute. "Beautiful home, gorgeous husband, job I love..."

"It does sound like you've got it made," Antony admits, eyes crinkling, thrilled that at least two thirds of that have to do with him.

"And you?" Stephen arches a brow, his lips curled up in amusement. "How's your life right now darling husband?"

"Fucking fantastic," Antony pronounces, running his hand along Stephen's calf.

"Do you think we'll overdose on this Martha Stewart Christmas we've got going on?" Stephen asks, taking another drink and cocking his head toward the kitchen and all the baked goods and food in there. They've got enough in to withstand a month long siege let alone a few days over the holiday.

Antony laughs. "Thinking of it as stocking up for Nepal," he says. "Besides, I'll take some of it down to the guys on the front desk."

"Hmm, then Goa, sun, sea, sand and sex," Stephen closes his eyes for a moment in apparent bliss.

"You sound like you wish we could go straight there," Antony teases, sipping at his champagne.

"Part of me would love that," Stephen admits. He leans his head back to rest it on the back of the sofa, and turns to eye his lover. "I don't doubt Nepal is going to be amazing, a trip of a lifetime, and I'm looking forward to the physical challenge, but yeah, what we have planned for Goa... it's going to remind me of our first trip together."

"I won't make you go to the store this time though," Antony says with a smile.

Stephen makes a noise of amusement, bringing a hand up to rub over his eyes. "Oh hell yeah, that... was interesting," he admits. Memories of picking out multiple items that Sir deemed large enough to shove up his ass.

"We had a few small missteps that trip," Antony murmurs, laying his head back too and just watching Stephen, the smell of their dinner cooking starting to fill the condo.

"We were new to each other, we'd spent little more than hours together," Stephen points out, he swirls his wine in the glass before taking a healthy drink. "It was an amazing week, getting to know you."

"It was incredible," Antony agrees. "You pretty much made me forget all about work."

Stephen knows what a big deal that is for his husband, knows that it's one of the things he does for Antony that no one else can come close to providing; down time, distraction.

"First time I've been fucked on a beach bed like that," Stephen's grin is impish. "Lot of firsts actually." He lets out a soft sigh. "You've given me so many firsts, so many new experiences, and you've never let me falter, never let me fall." His gaze goes distant now, thinking back.

"Of course not. That's what I'm here for," Antony says with a smile.

"Is it?" Stephen's gaze sharpens as he pulls himself back to the present. "Sometimes what we have seems incredibly one way, like I'm getting so much more from you than you do from me, despite the fact I love you so fucking hard."

"It only seems that way from your perspective," Antony says. "You make me happy, you accept what I do, our kinks line up perfectly, I love coming home to you - they might not seem like big things because I was doing fine before you came along, but they're huge for me. You've completely changed my life and in nothing but good ways."

That? Makes Stephen feel a pleasure deep within, one of his driving purposes now is Antony's happiness, making his lover and Sir happy and proud of him. The evidence is there for him to see, whilst Antony had never been an overly serious man, he's quicker to smile and laugh than when they first met, has an air of quiet satisfaction.

"It's been entirely my pleasure Tony," Stephen grins over the top of his glass, he's making short work of the champagne.

"Mine too," Antony grins back, shifting out from under Stephen's legs and giving him a quick kiss when the timer goes off. He piles two plates high with goodies, grabs some napkins and comes back. "Here," handing one plate over, the other sat on the coffee table while he grabs the bottle of champagne to top up their glasses before settling under Stephen again, his plate resting against his lover's legs. "To us," he toasts. "Happy Christmas Eve."

****************

'Elf'' credits are rolling as Stephen reaches for 'just' one more of the cookies Antony had made earlier, he's blissed out on holiday food, sugar and champagne, at some point they'd swapped out positions, until Antony had his head settled in Stephen's lap so Stephen could gently pet his husband's short crop of hair.

"Do you want something else to drink?" he asks quietly, he's certainly got a gentle 'buzz' on but he's nowhere near tipsy yet. "Scotch maybe?"

Antony smiles up at Stephen. "That sounds good," he says, reaching for the remote. "You still want to watch the second one? Or save it for tomorrow?"

"Not right now," Stephen pushes out from under Antony and picks up their empty plates. "Mind if I stick to wine?" he leans down to brush a kiss over Antony's forehead. "And do you want any more to eat hmm?"

"Not at all. I'll have another square." Antony turns the TV off and runs a hand over the back of his neck, watching Stephen as he putters around the kitchen. The turkey's in the fridge, thawing, the bread for the stuffing is drying on the counter, and the pumpkin pie's already made up and ready to be baked in the morning. Thank god for double ovens.

Selecting a bottle of his new favourite wine, Stephen opens it and pours himself a glass, loads up a plate with more finger food and returns to Antony setting them on the coffee table. He then busies himself pouring Antony a glass of their best scotch, offering it up with a smile.

"Music? Or do you wanna to just talk and watch the tree?" the words are teasing, warm.

"Talk and tree," Antony decides, covering a yawn with the back of his hand. "Did you get some good pictures of it? My mum wanted to see."

"Yeah." He nods and slides back in beside Antony, his spot still warm, he tucks a foot under him and picks up his wine glass. "We could skype them tomorrow if you like?"

"I already called them earlier," Antony says, shaking his head. "By the time we get up, their Christmas will be over. Maybe tomorrow night. Get them on Boxing Day."

"Sure," Stephen nods. "How are they?"

"They're good. They send their love," Antony smiles.

"Next time... let me talk to them too, yeah?" It's a gentle admonishment, but a real one.

It hadn't even occurred to Antony that Stephen would _want_ to talk to his parents. "Sure. You can make the call tomorrow," he offers.

"They're my family too Tony," Stephen leans in and presses a kiss to Antony's temple. He decides a change of subject is in order however, "So... am I going to be allowed to cook anything tomorrow? Or will I be banned from the kitchen?" Since moving in with Antony the only time he cooks is when his lover is away, and whilst Antony is a better cook, Stephen still enjoys dabbling on occasion.

"You can cook the cranberries, or the veggies," Antony says. "Or if you really want, I _might_ be able to relinquish control of the stuffing," he adds with a grin.

"Control freak," Stephen snorts, eyeing his lover over the top of his glass. "Just let me do something, being decorative gets boring after a while."

"You can do stuff," Antony protests. "I didn't say you couldn't cook."

"Right I'll remind you you said that." He's pretty sure he'll get the side eye if he's in there doing things Antony deems he shouldn't.

"You can set the table and choose the wine," Antony continues. "You can also sit at the island and talk to me. That's more than being decorative." He grins at Stephen. "If you're not in a sugar coma."

"Fuck you," Stephen eyerolls. "It's practically mandatory to be in a sugar coma at Christmas." And just to show Antony how seriously Stephen takes his festive duties he leans in to pick up one of the squares his husband had made earlier.

"You like those?" Antony asks, nodding at the square and grinning at Stephen's reaction.

"It's sugar," Stephen mumbles around a mouth full of caramel flavoured crumbs, as if Antony had just asked the most ridiculous question. His blue eyes dance with amusement and pleasure as he chews on the sweet treat.

"Next year I'll skip the baking and just give you a bowl," Antony retorts, but he's laughing.

Stephen arches a brow, and replies when he's swallowed, his tone dry. "Are you calling me a pig?"

Antony's eyes widen. "No. I'm just saying you don't seem to care what form it's in."

"Is that so?" Stephen keeps his face impassive and takes a sip of his wine.

Antony stares at Stephen for a moment then reaches for another square. He's not an idiot. He knows well enough when to shut up.

Keeping it up just a moment longer, Stephen suddenly bursts out laughing. "Ha!" He pushes up off his butt and leans in to press a kiss to his husband's mouth. "I love it when you call me a pig," he teases, the words ghosted over Antony's lips.

Antony grabs Stephen, pulling him in closer and kisses him long and hard. "Always?" he murmurs.

Stephen's caught, he has food in one hand, a glass in the other and Antony's hands on him, keeping him close. He tips his head and smiles, licking out over Antony's lower lip before nipping at it with sharp teeth. "You know when."

_Fuck._ "I can hardly wait for Goa," Antony says, releasing his hold on Stephen.

Returning to his spot, his one foot tucked under him, Stephen discards the half eaten bar and gives his husband a look. "We have to wait that long?" he asks, voice gone a little husky. "Unless you know, this being married thing means the sex is now mostly vanilla."

"I wouldn't call last night vanilla," Antony points out, watching Stephen, his cock already stirring at the promise in his boy's words.

He knows Antony so well, is so attuned to his needs - as a good boy, a good _slave_ should be, Stephen is aware the moment Antony's dick starts to fill. He takes another mouthful of wine, almost certain that it'll be discarded in the next few minutes in favour of more sensual pursuits. "What would you call it then?" An unspoken honorific hangs heavy between them.

"Biting to mark and then taking your breath while I fucked you?" Antony smiles. "Kinky as fuck. Not extreme but still, not even close to vanilla." He pauses for a second, "What would you call it?"

The word is on the tip of his tongue. Setting aside his wine, Stephen lays back opening his body up at if to display himself, he meets Antony's gaze and holds it before murmuring. "Foreplay."

_Christ._ "Take your clothes off, boy," Antony orders.

A wash of liquid heat flushes through Stephen, colouring his chest and throat. He rolls smoothly to his feet, the thin fabric of his pj bottoms tenting where his cock is already filling out. Lifting his arms he pulls his top off, dropping it on his newly vacated seat, then he pushes his pants down, stepping out of them, he stays upright, his hands tucked in the small of his back.

Antony takes a good long look at Stephen. At his property. Admiring every long lean line of muscle, every bite mark still standing in stark relief. That gorgeous cock with its ring through the slit. He reaches under the couch cushion and pulls out a bottle of lube. Holds it out to Stephen. "I want you to prep your cunt, pig. Open it up nice and wide for me."

A less well trained boy would pout, because Stephen? Would much rather Antony had his hands on him than directing him to do the work. But Stephen is very well trained, and his immediate urge is to please, so he takes the lube.

Turning around he drops to his knees, his back to his Sir, and empties lube over his fingers. When Stephen slides his fingers along his cleft and into his ass, he bends forward to afford Antony the very best view possible.

"Fuck," Antony murmurs, shifting, his legs spread to ease the ache between them. "That's it. You get those fingers in there, pig. Stretch that cunt until it hurts."

_...until it hurts..._ Pausing to add more lube to his hand, so much so it threatens to spill onto the carpet, Stephen goes back to work, coning his hand to push in as deep and hard as he can. Then muscles loosen and stretch, heat and the slick glide of the lubricant helping as Stephen grunts with the effort of making his asshole gape.

"Christ. Look at you. You're a filthy fucking pig. Much deeper and you'll have your whole fucking hand in there." An idea which appeals to Antony immensely, his cock giving a rough throb.

Stephen moans, the sound low, vibrating in his throat. Antony's words merely heighten his arousal, even if his cock is softening the more he works his hand into his own body.

"Go on. You know you want it. Cunt's just aching for it," Antony says, lifting his bare foot to toe at the back of Stephen's balls.

It's not something Stephen's done before, he's come close, and he can make his ass gape enough to produce a 'rose', but he's never sunk his whole hand inside himself. Twisting his hand he starts to thrust it in with more force, pulling back a little more each time until he's all but punching his own hole.

"C'mon. Do it. Shove that fist in there, you nasty little fuck," Antony growls, pushing harder at Stephen's balls. The front of his own pajama pants soaked with precome.

The room is full of the sound of Stephen's voice, he's making incoherent grunts each time his fingers push deeper, his knuckles the only thing stopping his hand sliding in with ease. He bears down on the next push, and _shoves_ in, using his strength to push past the resistance.

Fuck yes. Antony stills, eyes wide, cock jerking sharply at the sight. As much as he ordered it, he hadn't really expected his boy to be able to do it. Not here. Not tonight.

Panting, his breath coming in short sharp gasps, Stephen stops moving, he can feel his own pulse around his hand, he'd hurt himself when he'd forced his hand in, and he's not certain he's not torn, but right now that's incidental, because all he cares about is that he did this... for Sir, just like he was told to.

"That's a good pig," Antony breathes, getting down from the couch, his cock pulled from his pants, his fingers already wrapped around the aching flesh as he touches Stephen's wrist with his free hand, tracing the skin stretched so tight around it.

Stephen flinches at the touch, his skin hypersensitive. Dropping his head down he rests his forehead on his forearm where it lays on the floor, his eyes squeezed shut. "Sir...." he chokes out, not sure if he's seeking reassurance, guidance or both.

"I am so proud of you," Antony says, jerking his cock more sharply now, so fucking close... "So proud." Thick spurts spattering his boy's ass and wrist as he comes with a ragged groan.

The scent of fresh semen fills Stephen's senses, he whimpers, as he feels it hot and wet on his skin, trickling down his ass, the backs of his thighs as Antony marks him.

"Okay. Ease it out," Antony tells Stephen, staying on the floor with him, hand on his boy's hip, other hand gently guiding him.

Stephen's breath deepens, taking on a stuttery, panicked tempo as he tries to pull his hand free, it's not nearly so pleasurable now as it was earlier and he's starting to tremble.

"I've got you," Antony murmurs, rubbing soothing circles over Stephen's skin as he helps him back out, wincing as Stephen's hand pops free and his boy utters a pained cry. He grabs a napkin from the table and quickly wipes down Stephen's hand then helps him to his feet and into the bedroom, the covers shoved back, wrapping himself around Stephen as they lie down.

Skin to skin, Stephen finds he's able to calm his breathing, find his centre. He rubs his fingers over Antony's arm where it's wrapped around him, he's quiet, as he often is after a scene.

"You deserve a reward for that," Antony tells him, not sure how much Stephen is actually taking in but he likes to keep talking when they've done something like this.

Tilting his head, Antony's breath warm on his fast cooling skin, Stephen opens his eyes. "Did I please Sir?" he murmurs the question, even as he tucks in closer still, tucking one of his legs between Antony's.

Antony nods. "Very, very much," he says, still stunned Stephen managed it. "Are you okay?"

A slow, vaguely dazed smile curves Stephen's mouth. "If I pleased, that's my reward," he presses a kiss to Antony's chin. "M'okay...my ass hurts though, forced it in."

"Do you want me to take a look?" Antony asks.

Stephen's brow wrinkles, "Nooo," he shakes his head, he doesn't want to move, he doesn't want Antony looking at him like that. He just wants to float in the slightly drunk buzz he has going on, a mixture of subspace and alcohol.

That gets a chuckle. "Okay, but you let me know if it's more than just sore," Antony orders, kissing that wrinkled brow.

"I was a good boy," Stephen pronounces, his mouth at Antony's pulse point. "No coal for me," he mumbles. "M'good boy for Sir."

"Very good boy," Antony agrees, pulling Stephen in closer. "And no, no coal for you. Definitely not."

"Can I sleep now?" Winding his arms around Antony, Stephen puts aside the vague headache he's developing, and the dull ache in his ass, wanting nothing more than to fall asleep like this.

Antony nods and presses another kiss to Stephen's temple. "Go ahead," he whispers, smiling. He'll have to wait until Stephen's completely passed out before he gets back up to do his stocking and the rest of his presents.


End file.
